


What Does Everything Mean to You?

by rayrae118



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Jim's got issues, Kobayashi Maru, Pre-Star Trek (2009), but Bones is there for him, it kicks everyone's ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:12:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8067610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayrae118/pseuds/rayrae118
Summary: The first time Jim tried to beat the Kobayashi Maru, it didn't go so well. Cue the grumpy but lovable doctor. But maybe there's more to Jim's depressed attitude than McCoy realized...





	

Jim Kirk drained the bottle and set it down on the bar. The loud thump was strangely satisfying.

Without asking, the bartender slid him another drink – bud classic, same as he'd been downing all night.

A weight settled down next to him, and Jim didn't need to look over to know that the sometimes annoying, and yet endearingly grumpy doctor-cadet had found him. Figures.

Jim managed to hide a sigh by taking another sip of his beer. He really did enjoy the doctor's company, most of the time. But right now, he could do without a lecture. The older man seemed to derive great pleasure in trying to force his views on Jim in the loudest and most aggravating way possible. Without even trying.

But Leonard McCoy refused to be swayed by the outwardly aggressive and egotistical man-whore attitude that Jim was so used to playing. He just took it all in stride, scowled, and refused to leave. Kirk was actually surprised the doctor had stuck around this long. It was nice. Jim didn't understand _why_ , but it was still nice to know that someone out there apparently thought he might be worth the effort.

Not that that had stopped any of the lectures. In fact, it seemed like the doctor was getting increasingly annoyed and upset with each one. Like he was disappointed that Jim was continuing along the same self-destructive manners that had landed him in trouble more often than not over the course of his childhood. The young cadet kept waiting for the moment when McCoy would finally look at him and see what everyone else had: someone who was not worth the trouble. Not worth sticking around for, not worth loving, not worth _caring._

So Jim pushed. The suspense was killing him. He just wanted the doctor to _leave_ already. So that he could go back to being alone. Having a friend like McCoy dangled in front of him, knowing as he did that it couldn't last, was practically torture.

McCoy ordered a bourbon, neat, and sipped it carefully, watching Jim out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't actually been there, but everybody knew what that damn test did to potential captains. The sometimes idiotic kid sitting next to him was just one in a long line of cadets beaten by the Kobayashi Maru.

The pair sat in silence for a while. It wasn't until Bones was on his second bourbon, and Jim was down to the last dregs of his bottle, when the younger man spoke.

"Do you think that's what he felt?" Jim's voice was much quieter and more contemplative than McCoy would have thought, laced with something that sounded suspiciously like pain.

Leonard furrowed his brow in confusion. "Who?" he asked, trying to be understanding, but failing to see how one failed simulation would affect the genius so much. Kirk was still at the top of his class, not that he ever got the impression that class work meant all that much to Jim.

Jim looked down, twirling his bottle around absentmindedly, partly surprised that he was even sharing, but not quite willing to stop. After all, McCoy was here, and Jim needed some help working all this through. He sighed. "My dad."

And with that, Leonard McCoy felt like the biggest idiot. Of course this simulation would make Jim think about that. The Kobayashi Maru was _based_ off of the _Kelvin_ incident. The similarities would have been glaringly familiar to the captain wannabe. "Jim…" McCoy trailed off, not sure what to say.

But Kirk jumped in, clinging to this hope that, because McCoy hadn't left yet, he would be willing to listen. Because for once in his life, Jim really needed to talk. "I mean… I know it didn't go down exactly like that, but in those final moments… knowing that his life was over… do you think he felt that hopeless?"

McCoy didn't know how to answer. He had never heard Jim sound as lost and confused as he did at that moment. Finally, he sighed. "Ah, hell, kid." He reached over and grasped Jim's forearm. The minuscule flinch didn't go unnoticed by the trained doctor, but he didn't comment.

Jim pulled away, angrily downing the last of his beer and setting the bottle back down, hard. "Don't patronize me, Bones," he retorted irritably, "I don't need the pity."

McCoy withdrew his hand, now resting it on the bar, inches away from Kirk's. He cupped it around his glass, filing the irritable behavior away in his Jim Kirk vault, just like he did every other odd and peculiar mannerism he had observed in the younger man over the years. And there were a few of them. Enough to piece together a grim and somewhat horrifying past, riddled with pain and fear. Not that the damn kid ever told him anything. He infuriatingly hid behind a mask, pretending to be the cocky and confident man, with the devil-may-care attitude, and the 'I'm a genius but I can't be bothered to act like it' look, acting to the world at large like someone who really didn't care, about anything. Now, McCoy thought it might be the opposite. Jim cared too much. About everything. The doctor was starting to imagine just how much _everything_ might mean.

"That's not what I was offering, Jim," he managed to get out.

Kirk looked over sharply, analyzing everything from the casual way his friend was sitting to the choked up voice he was using. Perhaps he was over-analyzing, but his genius brain just couldn't stop. He had never been able to just turn it off and listen: he was always thinking, always imagining ways around things and through things, meanings behind words and phrases, peoples actions and intentions. Sometimes he really wished he could just be normal.

Jim almost snorted at that. He would never be normal. He was way too screwed up to even try, by now.

But around McCoy, he almost felt like it was a possibility. This 'normal' everyone talked about. With the doctor, he didn't always feel like he had to act so hard. McCoy just let him be him; he might ream him out, lecture him until dawn, and thoroughly dislike some of his extracurricular activities, but he never made Jim feel like less of a person for being the way he was.

And apparently, McCoy wasn't done speaking. "Was it that bad?"

That tone sounded way too gentle to belong to the doctor. Jim cleared his throat before answering, voice a little hoarse when he did. He refused to look up from his hands, still twirling the bottle around absentmindedly. "The whole time I was sitting in that chair, I just kept thinking, 'is this what it was like? Was this what my dad was going through when he died?... Does anybody care?'"

On that last note, Jim trailed off, shifting his eyes away as he realized just what he had divulged.

Leonard was speechless, as yet another facet of Kirk's personality was revealed. He hesitantly shifted closer to his friend; they weren't touching, but it was close. Jim seemed to respond to it. It was that last question that showed so much about the young man. McCoy couldn't even believe that it had crossed Jim's mind. Of course people would care. But then… in the almost three years since they had been at the academy, not once had Kirk gone home. He had had no visitors of any kind, and he didn't seem to have that many friends either. Well, none that didn't also inhabit his bed on a regular occasion. Or rather, none that he didn't also inhabit _their_ bed… McCoy knew for a fact that Jim never brought dates – or conquests – home with him.

It was entirely possible that the young man wasn't used to people caring about him. Leonard personally couldn't wrap his head around it, but then, he had come from a relatively stable home environment. His disaster of a marriage notwithstanding, he probably couldn't even comprehend the pain his friend must be feeling. To know that the whole world knows your story, that the only reason you're alive is because your father isn't… that your mother is so haunted by the ghost of him she sees in you that she would rather live out in space, never coming home if she could help it… McCoy started. Where had that thought come from? It seemed that Kirk had let more slip over the years than he fully remembered. Perhaps they had had some heart-to-hearts while intoxicated, and the knowledge had stuck.

Leonard didn't know what he could do to help with _that_ particular breed of trouble, so he just said what he thought. "Jim, it's the Kobayashi Maru. Nobody passes it, don't let it get to you like this."

But apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Jim dropped the bottle, and it clattered loudly down to the ground, coming to a rest somewhere behind the bar. He looked up angrily at his friend. "It's not just a test, Bones, it's my life!" McCoy was surprised to see so much raw passion and pain mixing together on his friend's face. "I _should_ have passed it. I've been living the scenario since I was born! If anyone could pass it, it would be me."

The doctor winced sympathetically as he heard the threat of tears in his Jim's voice. He had never imagined that Kirk felt this way. He knew the bravado was mostly a mask, but he had never thought his father's death would have such an affect on his friend.

Jim rested his elbows on the bar, and ran his hands roughly through his hair, resting his head there as he continued to speak. "Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you hadn't gotten married?"

The question caught McCoy off guard. "What?" he asked, surprised.

Jim shrugged, his head still in his hands. "You know, do you ever wonder if maybe, your life would have been better if you had never met Jocelyn."

Leonard raised his eyebrows. This wasn't exactly comfortable territory, but he sensed there was some connection to the whole conversation they had been having. And while he couldn't see what it was, McCoy knew his friend needed an answer. "It wasn't all bad," he admitted, looking down at his own empty glass. "And if I had never met Jocelyn, I wouldn't have a daughter. I love Joanna, and I don't regret having her, no matter what happened between her mother and me. " He paused briefly, and glanced over. "Why?"

Jim lifted his head up, and stared pointedly straight ahead, at the shelf of liquor behind the bar. "I just keep thinking, what would my life be like if my dad was alive." McCoy suppressed another wince. Of course he would wonder. What kid in that position wouldn't? Jim sighed, and brought one hand up, resting his chin in his palm. "You know, would my mom be able to look me in the eye without seeing a ghost, would Sam have stuck around, would Frank…" Jim cut off abruptly, once again surprised that he had shared so much. His eyes, which had been surprisingly open until now, shuttered closed. The mask was back in place.

McCoy watched the transformation, his heart physically aching as he listened to his friend. He wracked his brain, trying to place the names he had just heard. Sam was George Samuel Kirk, Jr. He remembered another setting, much like this, when the two had indulged in too much alcohol, and Kirk had told him about his older brother Sam, who had left the family farm when Jim was twelve. He hadn't seen him since.

Frank was slightly harder to place. It was another drunken talk, but McCoy could pull up some snippets of the conversation. Jim's stepfather, if Leonard wasn't mistaken. He couldn't really remember anything else. They had both had a lot to drink that night. _Bastard_ , he thought Jim had called the man. But he really couldn't be sure of anything that had happened that night. They really needed to stop drinking for all the bad stuff - anniversaries, holidays, bad days at the hospital... But at least they weren't doing it alone. Anymore.

"Would Frank what?" he asked gently.

But that was all he was getting. He could tell that Jim had shut down. "Leave it alone, Bones," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

McCoy nodded. That response answered more questions than he suspected Jim meant for it to. He sighed. It was late. They needed to get back to the academy before curfew, but he didn't want to end this… whatever it was that had changed and allowed Jim to open up like never before. "Don't let the test beat you, kid," he offered. He knew it wasn't much, but then, he really didn't know anything that _could_ help.

Maybe it had been the right thing, after all. Jim perked up slightly, looking over at his friend. "You're right," he declared, more fire in his gaze than there had been all evening. He stood up, tossing some credits on the bar. "I'm going to take it again."

Leonard started. "What? Jim, that's not what I meant." Kirk wasn't listening though; he was too busy thinking about that damn test. "Jim!" It came out much harsher than intended. When the younger man turned back, he stood up as well. "I meant that you shouldn't let it affect you. It's the one simulation nobody can win."

But Jim just looked at him, as if he was speaking an alien language. An _unknown_ alien language, since he had to admit, it was highly likely that Jim knew several extraterrestrial dialects. "I don't believe in no-win scenarios," he said firmly, no inflection and no fervor; it was just a statement, a fact. "I _can't_ believe in them."

And with that, Jim left the bar. McCoy watched him go, feeling something akin to worry and alarm at that last statement. The ' _if I did believe in them, I would be dead by now_ ' was unsaid, but the implication was clear.

Leonard tossed down enough credits to cover his own drinks, and turned back to the door, where he had seen Kirk leave. "Shit," he all but growled, making his own exit.


End file.
